


kindness prevails

by burnttongueontea



Series: time, as a symptom [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Female-Presenting Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gen, He/Him Pronouns For Aziraphale (Good Omens), Historical, Prompt Fic, References to difficulties in childbirth, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:01:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26414569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnttongueontea/pseuds/burnttongueontea
Summary: Aziraphale goes out of his way to help a human in distress, and gets a treasured memory in return.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: time, as a symptom [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1577767
Comments: 25
Kudos: 73
Collections: SOSH - Guess the Author #5 "A summer night in the South Downs"





	kindness prevails

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the SOSH Guess the Author game - in response to the prompt: 'A summer night in the South Downs'.

Blessings are easy. Nothing easier. It’s simple, to prevent a problem from arising in the first place. Coming in _after_ a mess has been made, now, that’s hard. Is it safe to use a miracle? How many can you risk? What needs fixing most?

Things don’t always go right. Aziraphale is grateful when they do.

It’s been dark for hours now, and the air’s still hot and close. The kind of August weather that defeats people. But it didn’t defeat anyone, not tonight.

Mother and child must have fallen asleep. The young father comes out of the bedroom, and he’s glowing – with sweat, with the thrill of love at first sight. He _is_ young. Not yet twenty. Good. May the whole family enjoy long lives together. Aziraphale thinks it firmly, because thinking makes it so. May he prosper as a stonemason. May his house stand on the Downs for many years.

“My first-born daughter,” the man says jubilantly, in the same way other men would say _my first-born son_.

Aziraphale likes him for that.

May he always feel so fortunate. May he treat his women well.

“I congratulate you most warmly.”

“You can’t say that, it’s your doing. We’re lucky you were passing by, goodwife.” (Aziraphale changed his appearance when he sensed the groaning agony emanating from the cottage, because it’s always a midwife they want, in these parts.) “What would have become of her, if you hadn’t overheard?”

“Don’t think on it,” the angel advises. He’ll be a day late for his assignment in Winchester, but it doesn’t matter. How could it matter? “What will you name her?”

“Elizabeth. After the Queen.” The man’s eyes shine suddenly. “I should carve it into the hearth,” he declares, and grabs one of his chisels, heading for the newly-finished fireplace, the one he must have built himself. “Elizabeth.”

E – L – I – Z – A – B – E – T – H.

Aziraphale has to stoop to find it under the mantelpiece, but it’s there, still there. The capital letters wander upwards in an untidy line, the work of a good craftsman acting in haste, and in child-like glee. Her name, the year of her birth. He touches the grooves, rubs his finger over them.

“Problem with the fireplace, angel?”

Aziraphale turns back and looks at Crowley, who is standing next to the estate agent. The agent has begun to smile knowingly, probably because she’s just had her unspoken question answered, the one about whether the two gentlemen are actually a couple.

“That’s an original feature,” she informs them proudly. “Sixteenth-century hearth, from when the cottage was built. It’s listed, so you wouldn’t be able to make any alterations.”

“It’s perfect,” Aziraphale replies. “Why should we make alterations?”

Crowley snorts.

“Liar. He wants to put a bookshop in downstairs.”

“In _respectful_ keeping with the historic character of the place,” Aziraphale sniffs.

Behind the sunglasses, Crowley’s eyes are twin stars, glittering. Alpha Centauri. He turns to the agent.

“He’s right, you know,” he tells her. “It’s perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Joanna Newsom’s [Esme](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6EHemagYSs8&ab_channel=HaveOneOnMe1).
> 
> I wrote this as an individual piece, but after finishing it I decided it would fit well in my turned-human AU, so I’m adding it to the series.


End file.
